Wolves
by writerfan2013
Summary: Anne of Austria is on a straightforward journey. All is well. She has protection. But she cannot shake the feeling that something is wrong. Featuring everybody. Ch 10 - Pursuit. (This will be a quickie, just writing in between doing Finisterre. -Sef)
1. Chapter 1

It ought to have been reassuring. These were the elite fighters, a hand-picked group of the country's best soldiers, and they were sworn to protect this carriage at all costs.

Yet Anne of Austria was uneasy. The men riding beside her wagon were draped in weaponry, which they handled with a swaggering nonchalance she could not reconcile with the notion of a regiment. Pistols clanked against cuirasses and swords. Bags of musket balls flapped on the leathered thighs of these men, sachets of gunpowder were stuffed hastily in their pockets of their doublets. How could she feel safe, surrounded by lethal power which was treated with such carelessness?

She leaned back against her Dutch embroidered cushions and tried to relax. This was a straightforward courtesy visit to the Duke of Racaut, a stay of a week or so, enough to oblige him to refurbish his house and slaughter his venison, not enough to bankrupt him and bring him back to Paris, begging for alms. Anne expected a week of dreary presentations to provincial dignitaries, interspersed with banquets of food prepared in despicable conditions. Paris was not ideal, but rural France was truly terrible.

She gazed at the pathetic hummocks which the locals called hills, and longed for the sweeping magnificence of her own country.

"Are you well, your majesty?"

Her ladies were unsettled by her restlessness. She must set a better example. "Quite well."

They peered at her. She thought to throw in an irresistible idea. "I miss the King."

The carriage erupted in a burst of sympathy. Anne let it wash over her and looked out of the window, again, at the soldiers.

They were undisciplined, cantering ahead or hanging back at random. She preferred to see an organised formation, and regular changes of the vanguard - fresh pairs of eyes monitoring her route. There were bandits, and pockets of religious fervour which might burst back into full blown war. And of course there was kidnap, hinted at by the Cardinal only this week. Any number of people might think a Queen a worthwhile prize.

Could this troop prevent a kidnapping, if one were attempted?

Anne frowned, and lifted her gloved hand to her cheek to hide it. These men did not match her idea of soldiers. In her mind's eye she saw a man with bright eyes and a crucifix at his throat, his horse and weapons well cared for, galloping towards her. He rode with the steady confidence of the long-serving soldier, and held himself alert, his bearded chin jutting with certainty in his own skills. His cloak, fastened at the neck, fluttered behind.

Anne sighed. The guard now closest to her carriage rode sloppily, and his brick-coloured cloak was caked in mud.

The man in her mind was but one of four. He wore a feather in his hat and his sword was always ready. And like his friends', his cloak was blue.

The cardinal had vouched for this special troop of his red guards on this journey, promising her safety. They were the country's top soldiers. Yes.

So why did she feel as if she was protected by wolves?


	2. Chapter 2

D'Artagnan pulled his horse up sharp, calling to Aramis. "Here!"

Aramis halted his horse and sprang from the saddle, throwing the reins over the pommel in one fluid motion as he did so. "Wheel ruts!"

He crouched on the dusty ground, as D'Artagnan wheeled his horse around to hail Athos and Porthos who were on the higher road out of Paris, scouting there for tracks. "A heavy wagon," Aramis said, pointing at the depth of the marks. "Loaded, but the tracks are too even for a common cart. This was a well-balanced vehicle."

Athos saw D'Artagnan's salute, turned his horse and plunged down the grassy hillside to the road, Porthos behind him. Around them the trees were laden with the white and pink blossom of full-blown spring. Swallows dived overhead, plucking tiny winged insects from the air. Yet in this warm sunny scene, the four men were melancholy.

Sitting with the reins gathered in his left hand, Athos sighted through his spyglass. "No sign," he said. "Anyone who has passed before is an hour ahead, at least."

"These tracks are not that fresh," admitted Aramis. "The last rain was a week ago. The ground has hardened since."

"There's been no sign of any other wagon between here and the inn where the Queen rested," said D'Artagnan. "We're on a country path - these are the only tracks we've seen."

"Not looking good," muttered Porthos.

"Still we must search," Athos said. "The King will not be satisfied with a desultory effort."

Aramis straightened up. "If this was the Queen's carriage, it followed this road west towards Laroche."

"But if it wasn't," said D'Artagnan. "We could waste hours tracking a haywain."

"We separate," declard Athos. "Aramis, Porthos, follow these tracks and look for signs that the carriage turned aside from this road. D'Artagnan, you and I will ride to Laroche across country. We may overtake the wagon, or if not we may arrive in time to learn fresh news."

Aramis mounted once more and sighed, wiping his palm over his face. "I still say we should have argued harder to be the Queen's escort for this journey."

"Treville was adamant," said Athos. "Attending the Queen was to be the duty of the Red Guard. We were to remain with the King. The city is restless. The people have begun to lose faith in their King. We could not leave him."

"But to leave a carriage of defenseless women unprotected -"

"The Red Guard are not that bad," said D'Artagnan. "They're just not as good as the musketeers."

Aramis shot D'Artagnan a sour look. "So where is the Queen?"

"It is probably some mishap," said Athos. "Some mundane event which nonetheless has prevented her arrival at the Duke's house."

"A mishap which stopped the Queen, or anybody with her, from sending a message back to Paris, or on to the Duke of Racaut?" asked D'Artagnan skeptically.

"Lucky the Duke was quick to send word to the King," said Porthos. "Or we'd have never known anything was wrong."

"That's not luck," said Aramis. "He knows his head is for the noose if the Queen comes to any harm in his care." He sighed again and rubbed his horse's neck as if it was the beast which needed consolation.

Athos sighted once more through the telescope. "There is no sign that this cart went anywhere but to Laroche. Let us follow it where we can, and then turn back. I fear we have but bad news for the King."

Aramis bit his lips. The four friends exchanged glances and then Athos and D'Artagnan spurred their horses away from the road, to gallop across country.

"Oh, this is not good," said Porthos. He grimaced at Aramis. "You're right, this is no mishap. The Queen is missing."


	3. Chapter 3

"The queen has fled."

The Cardinal's decisive tones echoed around the great library. Oak shelves gleamed golden in spring sunlight. From beyond the windows murmured the noise of a large crowd.

The King frowned. "That's ludicrous." He paced about, his buckled shoes squeaking on the polished floor.

The Cardinal crossed to the window, his cape flowing behind, and stood gazing out until the King could not bear it and came to stand beside him.

Beyond the walls of the Palais, crowds of citizens milled about, herded away by soldiers. They glimpsed the King at the window and cried out wordless jeers. The Cardinal looked pointedly at the King. "This civil unrest is enough to terrify anyone without the moral fibre to stand firm."

The King shook his head. "Anne would not leave me. She is my Queen! She is the future of France!"

"Your heir is the future of France, sire."

"I haven't -"

"Precisely. And until you have, the Queen must feel that she is inadequate. Perhaps these feelings, quite natural in a feminine mind, have led her to this abandonment."

The doors at the far end of the library opened and Treville entered, accompanied by Athos, D'Artagnan and Porthos. Their cloaks were dusty and their boots showed signs of hard riding across country back to Paris.

The King waved them forward to join the conference. They advanced, Athos noting the King's tremulous expression.

"The Queen has not abandoned me," said Louis to the Cardinal, in a small voice.

"Did she by any chance beg you to go on this trip out if Paris, to see the Duke of Racaut?" asked the Cardinal.

"No. She begged not to go, in fact. She has been kidnapped!" Louis tugged at his broad lace collar.

The Cardinal's expression turned to regret. "No note, no ransom demand? A week has passed, sire."

Treville bowed minimally and caught the King's eye for permission to speak. "The Queen definitely never reached Racaut. The Duke became worried when she failed to arrive, and sent out scouts, but her carriage has not been seen."

The King turned on the Cardinal. "Where are your Red Guards? You'll hang for this!"

"If the Queen has truly betrayed you," said the Cardinal steadily, "your majesty may thank me for uncovering her true nature."

"Do you accuse a queen?" cried Treville. Athos stepped forward, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"I merely state the facts," said the Cardinal with a smooth smile.

"Find her, Treville," begged the King. "Take my musketeers," and he placed a heavy emphasis on 'my' - "and bring my Queen back to me."

Treville nodded and strode away, cloak flying.

"We can start immediately," said Athos as they reached the antechamber.

"Do it. Where's Aramis?"

"He's not well," said Porthos.

"Sick to his stomach," added D'Artagnan. "It started as soon as we returned to Paris."

"Is this some trick?" Treville asked.

D'Artagnan and Porthos looked at each other in confusion.

"Did you see him?" Treville asked Athos.

Athos shook his head. "I rode ahead and met D'Artagnan and Porthos here. What's wrong, Captain?"

Treville smiled grimly. "I've known Aramis six years. And I've never known him fall sick when there's work to be done."

There was a pause. Then Athos sighed and nodded. "Especially work involving rescuing a carriage of royal ladies."

The three friends looked at each other. "Aramis!"

"Find him," ordered Treville. "If the Queen is in danger, he will need help. If she has indeed abandoned the King, then Aramis will only incriminate himself by getting involved. Go!"

He leaned on his sword as they sprinted away.


	4. Chapter 4

Racaut pressed Anne's palm in his hot hand, kissed it with damp lips. "It is an honour, your majesty."

Anne tried to withdraw her fingers but could not.

Around them the Duke's staff stood ever ready to serve him. In this case, they obliged him by keeping prisoner the Queen and her ladies in waiting. The Duke's chateau was old and solid, a stone lump of fortified house on a cliff above a ravine. High walls provided perfect privacy; steep drops on all sides ensured that guests must leave via the well guarded entry bridge or not at all.

"I wish to retire," said Anne. She had been here a week, and the Duke's behaviour had grown increasingly strange. At first she took him for a buffoon, with his odd double entendres and frequent insinuations of intimacy with many women. Yet when she tried to send Odette to the village with a letter for the King, Anne had learned that they were captives in Racaut's house. "I will go to my chamber."

"Perhaps later. For now I will enjoy your company." He brought her fingers to his face again.

"You presume to command your Queen!" She rose, but he had her hand, and did not allow her to leave. He did not get up.

"My queen," he murmured. "Ah, that sounds well."

"How dare you!"

"How? Quite easily, madam. I know you take lovers when it suits you. Your former paramours have been most forthcoming with the details."

Anne paled. "Cease speaking now."

"I decided," said Racaut, ignoring her, "that I would join their ranks, these lucky men who have tasted a queen."

"You are impertinent. You are treacherous!" She was running out of words, and the ones she had were affecting him not at all. She wrenched her hand free.

It was already beyond protocol that she be alone with her host and his guards. Racaut had confined the ladies to their suite of rooms. Any accuser, now, might step forward and claim that Anne had behaved inappropriately.

And the worst thing was that Racaut knew this, and was preparing to use it against her even as he abused his privilege as her host.

"Tell me,' said Racaut, "were any of your past lovers as rich as me?" He indicated the gilt furniture, the wine in crystal goblets.

"Only the King," said Anne, "and the King is my husband, and he will sever your head for this." She kept herself still and straight in her chair. A Queen commands. A Queen cannot be intimidated.

Racaut chuckled. He touched a strand of Anne's brown hair. "His majesty will do no such thing, for it is his own agents who procured this visit, and it is your head, I believe, which approaches the block. So say no more of the man who once called you his wife."

"Who once -" She felt her chest straining against her bodice. "I must rest," she said. "I am fainting."

"If you faint I will call one of your women," he said, waving a careless hand. "Until then, I plan to enjoy my jewel."

There was no other way out. Anne rolled her eyes up and slid gracelessly to the tiled floor. Through closed lids she saw shadows moving, heard Racaut curse, and finally his raucous voice, calling for Odette.

The ladies all came, weeping and shrieking as they saw her prone, and scooped her up, bearing her to the room they had been assigned.

As the door closed behind them Anne opened her eyes and said, "Well. We are in a very unpleasant situation."

"Majesty!" cried Odette, Anne's favourite. "You feigned unconsciousness."

"Hush," said Anne. "Let this monster think I am at death's door all night and tomorrow. I need to think, and his foul breath and impudent hands must be kept from my person."

They agreed. At a sign from Anne, Odette fetched wine, and all drank.

Anne pondered, having shared some of Racaut's comments. She left out the accusation about lovers. "We must find resources," Anne said. "We must make a plan!"

"What can we do, madam? We are all confusion." Odette squeezed Anne's hand and poured her more wine.

Anne drank, put down the goblet, then rose and paced about their richly decorated tower rooms, in an old part of the house, at the highest point above the ravine.

The so-called Red Guards had been Racaut's own men, placed hastily in position just before the assignment as Anne's escort. They had brought her here, and now prevented her departure. Anne thought she could guess whose work that was.

A harder problem was how she could escape. Racaut would soon force himself upon her, and without witnesses, far from the King, what could Anne say?

Her honour had suffered a blow the previous year, when a visiting English emissary had sought her attentions so blatantly the King had noticed. An unwise, unescorted walk in the Palais gardens had nearly led to war.

The bridge to Racaut's fortress was guarded and the walls were steep. On the other side of the ravine, sweet grass flourished in meadows which ran along the valley to the foot of wooded hillsides. But up here, that view was no more than a fantasy.

It struck Anne that the visit to Racaut had been of unspecified duration.

How long would it be, how ruined would she be, before someone in Paris realised that she was a prisoner?

That someone would have to notice, and also to be concerned, and also, crucially, to have the will and the means to do something about it.

"I know only one thing," said Anne grimly, looking from their window. "We need musketeers."


	5. Chapter 5

D'Artagnan burst into Aramis' room but it was cold and bare: no Aramis, and his favourite weapons were gone. Only the older pistols, plus a psalter too large to carry, were on Aramis' table.

Porthos arrived, took one look and turned away. He and D'Artagnan hurried back towards the stable, where Athos would be readying horses - and were impeded by a commotion at the dovecote.

The dovemaster was distraught. "My prize bird! Gone!"

Around him, pigeons flapped in their wicker cages and kitchen boys tried to shepherd the loose birds back into their nesting places in the pigeonnier.

Athos arrived and cast his eyes over the chaotic scene.

"A pigeon," said D'Artagnan.

Athos looked sideways at him.

"He can cover fifteen leagues in an hour," said the dovemaster. "He is my fastest bird, and he always knows his way." The man wrung his hands in dismay.

Porthos said to Athos, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Yes," said Athos. He sighed with the air of a man who will once again be called upon to sort it all out. "Aramis has vanished on a suicidal mission to save the Queen, alone."

D'Artagnan added, "With a pigeon."

Xxx

The evening passed, and turned to night. Racaut sent up food for Anne, fine cuts of beef and ham, dried fruits and warm pastries, with several bottles of good quality wine, and invited her ladies to descend to the kitchen to eat with his people - but they would not go. Racaut sent no more food.

Anne pursed her mouth at this discourtesy. "We will make a picnic," she declared. "At least he has been generous with the wine."

"Let me taste it first, madam," said Odette.

The horrifying idea permeated the room.

"In case it is - tainted," said Odette, but her tact was too late. Anne allowed her to try each bottle as it was cracked, and the wine was pronounced safe, but it was clear that from now on, all food under this roof must be suspect.

Anne's chamber was furnished with a richly carved bed, draped in many coverlets. Its curtains were heavy and promised snug sleep - if sleep would come. Her ladies had cots in the adjoining room.

"Odette, stay with me," said Anne. "I am afraid to sleep alone."

"I won't let him near you," said Odette, embracing the Queen.

She undid Anne's hair, and brushed it, and helped the Queen from her formal clothes and into a gown fit for sleep.

"It is strange that the King is not here," Odette said. "How you must miss him!"

"His majesty must always be missed wherever he is not," said Anne automatically.

"I would hate to be parted from my husband," said Odette with a sigh. "If I had one."

"A queen must bear separation from her husband, for the good of her country," Anne said. It was true, but in this case, it was not the King she missed, but his soldiers. Separation from the King was, at present, a relief. He was anxious about the unrest in Paris, and had become agitated at the idea of dying at the hands of the populace, with no heir.

Anne could neither advise him on his command of the people, nor provide him with a son. This trip, whilst unwelcome, at least was to give them a rest from these problems.

Her doctor had assured her that a time of separation might prove efficacious in afterwards getting a child. He had seen it many times, he said, where the wife rests in some distant part, and then returns to discover shortly thereafter that she and her husband are expecting a happy event.

Anne had been a little skeptical about this. "How can being apart get a child quicker than being together?"

"It is sometimes the will of Heaven to provide a miracle when it is least looked for," said the doctor.

Now she regretted taking this doctor's advice. Unless help came soon, Racaut would force himself upon her and she would be lost.

Anne climbed into the high bed. Odette joined her and waited for Anne to settle, tucking the covers snugly around the Queen and smiling at her. They were of an age, and Anne marvelled at how different their prospects were. Odette was the pretty daughter of a Comte, with dark eyes and the look of the South. She would soon attract some courtier and marry well. Anne had been selected for marriage to the French heir, and from that moment became a queen, living not for herself, but others.

She had devoted herself to the King. She was a model royal wife. And it seemed very hard that she was to be ruined, having never once transgressed.

Curled up together, the candle snuffed, Anne asked into the darkness, "Odette, do you have a lover?"

"No," said Odette. "That is. No."

"There is someone something less than a lover then," Anne surmised.

Odette heaved a sigh. "He will not declare himself. We see each other but seldom. And he has - other loyalties. I wish he were free. If I were married I could have my own household...not that I would leave you, madam," she added with belated embarrassment.

Anne let it pass. "So there is a particular man?"

Odette hesitated.

"I am not easily shocked," said Anne. "Saving only the King, name any man in France and I will accept your choice."

"He is not a nobleman, your majesty."

"Oh! A commoner."

"Yes. Lower, even."

"What's lower than that?" Did she love an unlettered priest? A tradesman?

"A soldier," said Odette.

"I suppose that's true."

"He has no money. Lives in barracks with the other soldiers. His prospects are limited. And he could be killed in battle any day."

Anne cast her eyes to the shuttered window. Starlight glowed between its slats. The rest was darkness. "You paint a grim picture. What is his attraction, this low born, penniless man?"

"He makes me laugh," Odette said simply, and Anne's heart jumped.

"Then keep him," she said after a while. "Who is he? Perhaps one day I can help him to a promotion."

"Porthos," Odette replied. "Of the musketeers."

"I know him," Anne said in surprise. "He is tall, fierce looking. He favours fashionable dress."

"Yes! That's him." Odette wriggled beneath the covers. "Oh, he looks so fine in his musketeer uniform! He is so handsome!"

"I confess his charms are lost on me," said Anne. "But we each have our secret good points."

"He is a most affectionate lover," Odette said coyly, and struck again at Anne's tranquility.

Odette soon slept, snoring a little, but Anne remained awake a long time. When she slept, she dreamed, of safety, and strong arms, and a blue cloak, fluttering on the breeze.


	6. Chapter 6

At dawn, Anne rose. Odette wanted to fetch fresh water. Anne wrapped herself in a morning gown and paced about. After a while she turned the handle of the door connecting her chamber with that of her ladies - and found it locked.

She called out in alarm, but received no reply.

On trying the outer door, she found that also locked.

She stood by her bed, breathing heavily, and trying to force her mind into action. Her ladies were gone and she was alone with the monster. Her honour would not last the next encounter with him, and then, right or wrong, she would be hanged. Or perhaps for her it would be the block. The rope is for the peasants - for nobility, there is steel.

She felt sick.

Just then the shutters rattled in the wind, making her jump.

She cast a bitter look at the window. It alone was unbarred -

The shutters rattled again, and then Anne recalled the stillness of the bed curtains. There was no breeze today.

She approached the window. A shadow moved behind it. A bird, trapped?

She flung open the shutters and almost dislodged a man clinging to the ledge outside her chamber.

"Good grief!"

She stepped back, looking for any weapon, but the man was not Racaut, and he was dangling sixty feet in the air above the raging river and rocky ramparts.

He grunted, then swung himself into the room. She backed away. He was a cavalier, his cloak fastened back, his body draped in swords and guns.

But then he bowed, and as he lifted his bold brown eyes to hers she saw the leather fleur-de-lis at his right shoulder, and the triumphant feather in his hat, and she knew him.

She gasped in relief. "Aramis, of the musketeers!"


	7. Chapter 7

"Are you harmed, your majesty?"

Aramis cast his eyes over the Queen. She was deshabille and her hair was still loose. Bereft of crown and beaded gown, she looked young and anxious, but seemed otherwise calm. The ideas which had spurred him to cover twelve leagues in a single day appeared unfounded. No knife, no poison, no push into a well had befallen her. Yet she was a prisoner, and must have suffered.

He crossed to her and took her hands. "Forgive me -" He inspected her face and arms with delicate fingers, gazed into her clear blue eyes. There was no sign of rough treatment, and Aramis breathed a sigh of thanksgiving.

"My ladies have been spirited away," Anne said. She withdrew from Aramis' touch and put her hand to her throat. She was not accustomed to being handled by coarsely-clad soldiers, yet under the circumstances, she could hardly complain.

"Help is coming," Aramis said, more with the intention of making this true than it being so. "For now you must escape from here." He passed his hand over his hair. He had ridden until full dark, then slept, under his cloak, in the woodland a mile from this castle. He crept to the walls before dawn, and began his ascent at daylight, assessing correctly that any prisoner would be here, in the most isolated part of Racaut's fortress.

"I cannot scale walls," Anne said. Aramis was clothed in tough leather, but still it bore scrapes and gouges from his climb. A queen's stamina is mental, not athletic.

"We can descend with this," Aramis said. He unlooped a coil of rope from around his torso.

Anne stared. "Did you not use a rope to climb up?"

"I'm not sure the duke would have held it securely." He busied himself tying the rope to various heavy articles of furniture.

He had climbed alone, then. No help, no protection from the death below. "Where are your friends?"

"In Paris, doubtless under orders to search in the wrong direction for you, your majesty."

"Then the King knows I am missing -" Hope sprang up. But this man had come alone.

"The King is advised by those without your best interests at heart." At the last word, he finished his work and advanced towards her, holding out his hand.

"Now?" She glanced about. There was nothing she need take, but to abandon Odette, the others -

"At once. Surprise is our only advantage. When you are safe, I will return for vengeance on this audacious duke." He lay his hand deliberately on the hilt of his sword.

"Then show me the way. And say a prayer for those I must leave here."

Aramis nodded, and crossed himself. Then he hung his hat on his sword, and sprang onto the window ledge. With a steady hand he lifted Anne to stand beside him. "Your majesty. Permit me -"

He slipped his arm around her waist, hooking the rope around them both. Anne was awkward for a moment, then practicality ruled. She arranged herself against his hip, her arms about his neck.

"Admirable," said Aramis. "Let's go."


	8. Chapter 8

He squeezed her tightly against him and swung out from the ledge. Anne gasped and clung to him in a way most undignified for a queen. But it was a long drop.

Aramis let out the rope with a first unsteady jolt. They moved downwards.

"Close your eyes, your majesty," whispered Aramis. "I will tell you when we are on the ground."

He thought he spied the glint of metal among the trees. If they were to be shot, it was better that she knew nothing. He tightened his arms around her and let out the rope as fast as he could.

She weighed as little as a child. He had never known how slight she was, encased in stiff gowns of bead and bone. Her hair, untied, caressed his hands, its chestnut softness like the wing of a wren.

"Nearly there," he lied.

"Do not go slowly on my account," Anne whispered. "Be as quick as is safe. I beg you."

"You need only command."

He reeled out rope and the ground neared.

Anne tried to be calm, to be gracious in rescue, as befit a monarch, but she was shaking so much that grace as impossible. Her hands were wet with fear. She pressd harder against her rescuer, this daring musketeer who risked his life for hers. He smelled of horse, naturally, and of fresh green grass. Wholesome smells, comforting smells. She put her face into his neck and knew that he would feel her terrified tears.

"We're here." An impact from her soles to her spine followed his words. Anne opened her eyes.

The castle was above them and they stood on the last slope of the rampart.

She started to shiver. His neck was wet from her weeping and she wanted to escape, to run from him and everybody, but also her arms were locked around him and she could not let go.

Aramis detached her, took her gently by the shoulders and peered into her face. He seemed not to see her weeping wirh fear and relief. "Now we walk, your majesty, you and I, just slow and easy across the meadow, like a young couple in the first silvery weeks of courtship."

He embraced her impulsively, forgetting her royalty. "You're doing well. No one could be more fearless than your majesty."

Taking her hand he led her across the field. Her ankles were wet with dew, her skirts dragging, but Anne knew only that she was escaping Racaut. This cavalier was taking her to safety, his calloused left hand firm around hers. His other hand was free ready for sword or pistol.

"That rather ruins the illusion of innocent love," Anne said.

Aramis smiled dangerously. "Not as surely as a musket ball in the face if someone sees us," he said. "Stay close to me, and I will be the easier target."

"If they kill you I will take your gun and shoot them until they fall," said Anne.

Aramis burst out laughing. "You are as fierce as a musketeer, madam. Perhaps you should seek a commission?"

He led her to the trees. "We must keep on until they have no chance of finding us. There is a rough path through the forest. Are you strong enough?"

"I can walk or ride as far as you. When you have done so much for your queen I can hardly quibble at anything you ask."

He stopped, bowed, doffed his hat to her. He straightened, produced a white handkerchief and offered it to her.

She wiped her face, watching him. He had dark, thoughtful eyes and his beard was streaked with silver. His hair was wild. "Where is your horse?"

Aramis pointed to his boots. "My mount is the other side of this woodland."

She marvelled at him. "All this, accomplished alone! I am beginning to think we do not need quite so many musketeers." But she smiled, for the first time in days.

He bowed once again.

She peeled off her glove and gave it to him. "You have your queen's heartfelt gratitude."

He kissed the glove and put it in his pocket, his eyes sparkling. On a whim, Anne held out her bare hand. His eyes widened, then he bent over it, a faint touch of his mouth to her skin, then he withdrew.

Such charm. His manners were as beautiful as any nobleman's. And his eyes - when had she ever seen reverence tempered with such fire?


	9. Chapter 9

"Aha! This is the tree I sought." Aramis let go the Queen's hand and gestured ahead.

Anne looked around. "Your horse -?"

Aramis waved a hand dismissively. "Elsewhere. This is the real key to getting safely back to Paris."

He parted the branches of a low-slung hazel and brought out a small wicker cage. Inside, a grey bird blinked mildly at them.

"Breakfast?" asked Anne, lifting her eyebrows.

But before Aramis could reply, there was the noise of running feet and then two men in broad-brimmed hats burst from the trees.

"Get back!" Aramis pushed Anne behind him, drawing his pistol as he did. "Come no nearer," he warned the strangers.

Anne straightened and ducked out from behind Aramis. "They are not the Duke's men," she said.

"Stay back! Please."

"Your valuables. Now." The larger of the two men pointed a rough arqubus at Aramis and scowled. The smaller man offered the point of his sword.

"I am a poor man," said Aramis in a quavering voice, "rich only in the company of my beloved sister. Anything of mine you can have, only spare her."

Anne was shocked at his easy defeat. "Resist them!" she said as Aramis began to unfasten his purse. But he nudged her and then she saw that under cover of fumbling with the buckle, he was closing his hand around his own pistol. "Stay back, sister," he said loudly, "these scoundrels stop at nothing."

In fact they had stopped already, pleased at their easy prey.

Anne retreated to give Aramis more space to fire.

He drew out the pistol and took aim at the strangers, firing a shot before they could react. The leader fell, screaming. His friend rushed forward, sword in hand.

Aramis sighed and drew his sword also. "I won't be long," he said to Anne. "Can you release the pigeon?"

She ran to the wicker cage and unlatched it. "Come on, come out - "

"Put down your weapon," Aramis said to the robber, who was making thrusts to no effect. "I can parry for an hour if need be, but I will become bored."

He darted at the man, and made a scratch. The man yelped, thrust again, and missed.

"I am already finding this very dull," said Aramis.

Then his opponent made a hit, and Aramis, enraged, thrust at him. Anne saw the robber strike, a great slash across Aramis' chest. Then as Aramis staggered back, the robber drew a pistol.

Anne shrieked, and grasping the pigeon threw it into the face of the attacker. The bird flew up at once in a flurry of clapping wings, and the man, surprised, let his shot fly wild.

Aramis leapt forward but before he could lay the deadly blow a shot from within the trees struck the robber, felling him.

"That wasn't meant for him," said Aramis, shepherding Anne behind him.

He aimed his pistols in the direction of the shot as Anne, trembling, held the empty pigeon cage. "At least the bird is away. Its message will bring help."

There was silence, just an urgent cawing and flapping from the treetops over their heads.

"Oh," said Aramis, glancing up.

And the pigeon fell dead at his feet.


	10. Chapter 10

"So where do we start? We searched every road out of Paris." Porthos patted his horse's neck.

Athos and D'Artagnan drew up alongside Porthos at the gateway from the barracks. "Aramis has only a couple of hours' head start," said Athos. "If we find his road, we can overtake him by sundown. Perhaps a little later, but still - enough time to stop him doing anything too insane."

"If we pick the same road he did," said Porthos.

D'Artagnan tilted his head. "We searched every road out of Paris," he said slowly.

"The Queen certainly left by the expected gate," said Athos. He knew D'Artagnan's thoughtful expression, and waited.

"So she took the right road to the Duke of Racaut's land", said Porthos. "But we pored over that road with our noses to the ground. There was no sign of the carriage turning off."

D'Artagnan raised his eyebrows at his friends.

"Oh," said Porthos.

"Exactly," said Athos. "The Queen never turned from that road at all."

"The Duke raised the alarm to send us all in the wrong direction," said D'Artagnan.

"He has the Queen," said Athos with a thunderous face.

"He has an impenetrable castle, last I heard," said Porthos.

The three friends exchanged glances.

"Let's ride," said D'Artagnan.

* * *

They reached Racaut's castle early the following morning. The villagers had seen a horseman the previous day, riding hard across country as they had. He wore a blue cloak, and had made a favourable impression on all who spoke to him as he sought information about the Duke.

"Definitely Aramis," said Porthos as they received another simpering confirmation of their friend's presence in the area.

"Well," said Athos. "Shall we go and talk to the Duke?"

"If he's taken the Queen, we'll do more than talk to him," growled Porthos, tapping the hilt of his sword.

"An entire troop of Red Guard were overcome," D'Artagnan reminded then. "We can't just walk in there."

"Oh but we can," said Athos "And I fancy we'll find any number of grooms and scullions still sporting their elegant red cloaks."

"A false troop!" exclaimed D'Artagnan. "Of course. But who approved that?"

"Who do you think?" said Porthos.

Athos smiled coldly. "Well, we shall save our chat with the Cardinal for another day. Let's limit ourselves to one unpleasant encounter at a time."

They prodded their horses and approached the castle's gate.

"In the name of the King," said Athos. "Let us pass or we will strike you dead where you stand."

"There's plenty more than just me," said the guard.

"Well, that's the good thing about narrow bridges," said D'Artagnan, glancing around. "You send out more and more men and we just stand here and cut them down one at a time until nobody else wants the point of a sword."

"Convenient," agreed Porthos.

The guard wavered, then looked at them: Porthos angry, D'Artagnan mild and reasonable but readying his sword, and Athos, whose face was set like the stone angels climbing the arch of an abbey: calm and terrible.

They entered the castle. Soon they were in the great hall, awaiting the Duke, and the Queen.

The Duke appeared just as D'Artagnan was contemplating lighting a small fire to draw his attention. The Duke had a lady on his arm, dressed in a fine silk gown - but it was not the Queen.

"Her Majesty arrived unexpectedly last night," said the Duke. "I have not had time to send word."

He jerked on the arm of the lady he escorted.

Porthos frowned, and took a step forward. Athos held up his hand and Porthos hung back, glowering.

The lady said, as if reading from a book, "Her majesty is fatigued from her journey and wishes to rest."

"Then we will wait," said Athos, wandering about. "We have messages from the King which cannot be borne by any other."

The Duke appeared uncertain. "Her women will take any message." All three musketeers saw the Duke's fingers tighten around the lady's arm. "Won't you?"

The young woman bowed her head and nodded, then lifted her eyes and gazed directly at Porthos. He blinked, then touched Athos' arm and drew him and D'Artagnan aside.

"The Queen's not here," he said.

"You know this lady?" Athos glanced across.

"Know her. Yes."

"Are you blushing?" D'Artagnan shook his head in despair.

"Pretend to write a note for the Queen," Athos commanded D'Artagnan, who immediately obeyed. "Porthos and I will hand it to the Duke, along with a brief reminder on manners towards a lady."

"What about the Queen?" whispered D'Artagnan, whilst frowning with his pencil over a scrap of paper.

Athos sighed. "If she's gone, then Aramis has her. Which means we should start to hear chaos breaking out very shortly."

And as he spoke, they heard distant gunfire.


	11. Chapter 11

"Stand aside, please, madam," said Athos, unsheathing his sword. "The Duke will be occupied for the next few moments."

Odette wrenched herself free of the Duke and darted to Porthos' side, rubbing her arm. "He is a monster," she said. "He pressed his foul attentions on the Queen!"

Porthos stepped forward, hand on sword, eyes blazing.

Athos stopped him with a raised hand. "Is this true, sir? Did you dare to attempt this dishonour?"

"The Queen was my guest!" blustered the duke. "This woman is jealous that her flirtation with me amounted to nothing."

"Lies!" cried Odette.

"Let us await the judgement of better men on such a delicate matter as a Queen's reputation," said Athos.

"I thank you monsieur."

"Do not thank me yet. Before witnesses you have proved yourself a man who mistreated a lady, and for that I deem punishment required."

He advanced with the sword. "Where is the Queen?"

"I don't know!"

Athos made a pass with his sword. A button dropped from the Duke's fine coat.

"He locked her Majesty in the tower room," said Odette. "And us next door."

"The Queen is no longer there?"

"No. I fear - " Odette swallowed back tears - "that she may have harmed herself, monsieur. The window has a long drop."

Athos' face showed horror.

D'Artagnan lay a hand on his atm. "Be easy, friend. We saw no sign of a jump from the tower."

"Then where is she?" demanded Odette.

Athos flicked once more with the point of his sword, and a lock of the Duke's hair floated to the stone floor. The Duke paled. "I don't know! I don't know!"

"In which case," said Athos, and lifted his blade. The Duke cowered, but Athos only sheathed his sword and turned to the others with raised eyebrows.

"Rescued, I imagine," said D'Artagnan.

"By Aramis," said Porthos. "Still, it could be worse." He and D'Artagnan exchanged glances and chuckled.

"We will find the Queen," declared Athos. "Porthos, bring the Duke. We will see how he answers his King."

"As a gentleman you cannot arrest me without proper process," cried Racaut. "The King and I are cousins!"

Athos tilted his head.

"Distant cousins."

"The King and I are distant cousins," said Porthos. "Through Adam and Eve."

"We will have to bring the Duke with us to Paris," said Athos.

"I protest!" said the Duke.

"He protests," said Porthos.

"Oh dear," said D'Artagnan with a wry smile.

"I cannot force him," said Athos. "A gentleman is accused, but none of us witnessed his supposed crimes. And we have no proof of what has happened to the Queen."

"So," said Porthos. "We can't take him as long as he protests?"

"That is protocol," Athos said.

"If only there were some way round it," D'Artagnan said with a sigh.

"My hands are tied," said Athos, shrugging. But his eyes were bright.

"Nothing easier," said Porthos, and struck the Duke down with a single blow. "There. No more protest."

Athos bowed. "And now," he said, "let us find Aramis, and the Queen."

"What about us?" asked Odette.

"You are safe now," said Porthos. He turned to Athos. "I'll escort the ladies out of here."

"Bring the Duke," said D'Artagnan. "Preferably still unconscious."

"My pleasure," said Porthos.

Xxx,

A horse's gallop covers a meadow in a very short time. A musketeer's eye is sharp for signs of trouble, and when he sees it, his aim is true.

D'Artagnan made the shot that felled the robber. He sprang from his horse, Athos close behind, and found the Queen in a clearing, crouched over Aramis and pressing on his wounds with hands stained equally in blood and tears.

"Aramis!" D'Artagnan cast pleading eyes at Athos.

"Help the Queen," Athos commanded. "Take her to safety."

"I won't leave him," Anne said, her voice shaking but her tone certain. She remained kneeling beside Aramis.

D'Artagnan and Athos exchanged glances. Athos dismounted and examined Aramis.

"A scratch," Aramis said. His eyes were shut, his voice weak.

"Yes." Athos straightened up. "He's lost a lot of blood but the wound itself is not serious."

Aramis opened his eyes. "Your Majesty -"

"I am here, monsieur." She took his hands.

"Ah..." His eyes closed once more.

Athos winced, then felt his friend's neck. "Unconscious. Let's get him on his horse."

"Your Majesty," said D'Artagnan. "Ride with me. If you please."

They formed a strange little troop, passing through the forest: Aramis slung over his horse's saddle and secured, D'Artagnan's horse bearing the Queen of France as well as his usual master, who did not know quite where to place his hands to cause the least offence, and Athos, pistols ready, watching front and rear.

"No more robbers, at least," Athos said when at last they reached the road. He dismounted, and gave his arm to the Queen to help her down.

D'Artagnan tended the horses and checked Aramis. Athos spoke to the Queen. "We must return you to Paris, your Majesty."

"Aramis is in no condition for that journey," said Anne. She glanced at his limp form, bound to his horse.

"We can leave him at that inn," said D'Artagnan to Athos. "You know it - the Cockerel. We asked after him there."

"And every girl remembered him," said Athos drily. "All right. They'll look after him."

"We will all stay until he is fit to travel with us," said Anne.

There was a silence.

"The King expects you, your Majesty," said Athos.

Anne lifted her eyebrows. "And I expect the King. In particular, I expect the King to reward the man who took it upon himself to rescue me, which he cannot do if that man is abandoned in some country hostelry twenty leagues from Paris!"

Athos hesitated. Then he bowed.

"And while I tend to your fallen comrade," said Anne, "you can return to Racaut and retrieve my ladies, who have been at his mercy since dawn."

Again Athos bowed.

As the Queen walked on, straight and proud, D'Artagnan murmured to Athos, "I can see why he admires her."

"Any man must admire our Queen," said Athos. "She combines those qualities of courage and feminine wit which are so necessary in a princess."

"Feisty," agreed D'Artagnan. "And Aramis does love that."

Athos shot him a sideways glance. "Aramis is unconscious, for which, under the circumstance, we must all be thankful."

D'Artagnan chuckled and moved to join the Queen.


End file.
